


The Power of Words

by laraF



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A little angst, AU, Community: fullmoon_ficlet, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Masks, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Sarcasm, Steter - Freeform, a lot more - Freeform, assassin agency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 14:01:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9552071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laraF/pseuds/laraF
Summary: There are days when Peter needs some reassurance and he really doesn’t care if they are in the middle of the yearly assassin gathering at the HQ. Scott, Derek and the girls besides of hundreds of assassins should be more than enough to take care of the little riot-problem Deucalion has.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm under a shit ton of work but I love it. I wrote this months ago... Mistakes are all mine!

 

 

The ballroom was ostentatiously decorated. Golden drapes, mahogany tables, expensive crystal glasses and sparkling chandeliers. Peter picked up a shining silver fork and inspected it from every angle with a delicately derisive little frown in the corner of his mouth. It was still a better sight than the gathered crowd. The pathetic posturing and preening, the ridiculous clothes and flashy jewels… Oh, Peter admitted having a certain fondness towards being dramatic but only with purpose and in the perfect moment. This… this _cock-measuring_ was distasteful. Even among assassins.

  
Chief executive Deucalion would’ve been sooo dissatisfied with him at this wording. They were a well-respected multinational company after all employing hundreds of expert _agents_ all around the world providing only the best services for their clientele. Following, monitoring, _persuading_ , collecting and guarding, delivering and mediating, _occasionally_ using physical methods. He mentally snorted. Deucalion rammed these sentences into their heads on their very first day. The man was practically obsessed with sophistication, the hypocrisy mainly amusing him but sometimes it really grated on his nerves. Like right now. Not to mention that this day he really wasn’t in the mood for _celebrating_. One usually didn’t do that on the anniversary of their family’s brutal murder.

  
He could already smell the man’s horrible perfume and saw the people parting at the end of the hall like the Red Sea. _Yay_. Party time.

  
“Why a lion? He’s really a narcissistic asshole. Does he think about himself as the king of animals? While that is kinda hilarious, you know, because he’s an alpha werewolf and all that but I could totally imagine that he wants to be an even bigger cliche.”

  
Peter abandoned the nauseating scene of otherwise excessively proud _agents_ bowing with fake enthusiasm in favor of a much more appealing one. Stiles wore a simple (and delicious) black catsuit and a vivid pink flamingo mask. Peter snorted.

  
“Why a flamingo?” he drawled lazily.

  
“That was mine, but he’s a little thief” came the dry answer behind a delicate swan mask. Lydia looked gorgeous as always and that never sit well with Peter. He always managed to push down his jealous instincts but it just became harder and harder when Stiles’s adoration was so obvious toward the strawberry-blonde. Stiles was his and on this particular day he didn’t want to share.

  
“A master-thief, Lyds, the best in the states, no, in the whole wo-”

  
“And very modest, too” a disgruntled looking white tiger said.

  
“Nephew, I didn’t know you decided to descend among us, common folk.”

  
Derek didn’t dignify that with a response but a crocodile appeared behind his back grimacing. He looked laughable especially with those big brown puppy eyes of his.

  
“I thought that was you, Peter.”

  
“I’m not here to listen to your endless drivels.” The tiger growled impatiently.

  
“That’s true. There was a nameless statement only twenty minutes ago” a suddenly appearing gazelle stated.

  
Peter’s hackles rose but instantly there was a firm hand on his chest. He wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into the Argent heiress’s soft neck but Stiles’s touch soothed the agony that always flared up within when someone – or more specifically a fucking Argent – reminded him of the loss of his family. _Not today_. He couldn’t bear it.

  
“It told about an assassination attempt toward the chief” Scott elaborated.

  
Stiles snorted into his champagne and at the same time Peter chuckled wickedly.

  
“In the middle of a ball exclusively organized for the best assassins of the globe? As if that would be a good idea.”

  
“You don’t have to help” the tiger sighed.

  
“Good, because I have no intention to waste my time on absolutely useless activities.” He snatched Stiles’s hand and started to drag the boy in the direction of a huge balcony. Lydia rolled her eyes at Allison while Derek and Scott started to weave through the mass of colorful animal masks. “And now you’re going to dance with me.”

  
“Whoah, Mr Big Bad Wolf. Is asking a completely foreign concept for you?”

  
Peter grasped Stiles’s hips possessively. He yanked the boy close and started to sway to the rhythm of the soft classical music Deucalion so loved. Stiles could only blink when the werewolf buried his face into his neck and inhaled his scent like there was no tomorrow.

  
“Uhm, Peter. Not that I don’t like snuggling and all but what’s up with you today?

  
“Just shut up and dance with me.”

  
Stiles once in his lifetime did as told without questions. Peter’s hands were warm and solid on his hips. Stiles smiled softly and started to rub calming circles on the werewolf’s broad shoulders. The repetitive motion lulled both of them into an almost sedative state. Peter seemed to have fallen asleep. Stiles looked around aimlessly when he noticed something strange – identical dolphin masks in several corners of the room. They were slowly closing in on the Chief. Derek and Scott were already there, ready to help just as Kali and Ennis, Deaucalion’s most trusted people.

  
“Let’s go outside” Peter mumbled.

  
“Hmm? Okay” Stiles answered distractedly. Just as they reached the french doors leading to much needed fresh air several smoke bombs went off. Stiles looked at Peter then they shrugged simultaneously.

  
Peter peeled off his wolf mask and pinned Stiles to a window. In the background a fight seemed to break out with the people wearing dolphin masks on one side and Deucalion’s and Scott’s pack on the other. Peter didn’t spare them a single glance. He was too focused on ravaging Stiles.

  
“Mhm, Peter… wha’ are you… Ah!”

  
“I can’t stand how you look at her.”

  
“Wha?” Stiles asked dazedly. “Hnn, yesssss. Don’t stop!”

  
Shouts and the sounds of a vicious battle reached their ears but the deep rumble from Peter’s chest was louder.

  
“You’re mine, sweetheart.”

  
“Lydia is just a friend. I thought we were past this already. I love and respect her. As a friend.”

  
Peter’s face showed unusual vulnerability.

  
“I know.” He hoarsely added “I love you.”

  
“I love you too.”

 

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment or kudos if you liked it - makes my little heart flutter all over the place. ;)


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